The Wonderful Adventures and Enthralling Mishaps of Tom's Diary
by WhymsicalBell
Summary: Location: Pantry. Lots of yummy snacks to steal. Mood: Not hungry. What a waste. Mood: Cunning & Vengeful. Current Plan: A frog shall be acquainted happily with Martha's soup at dinner. Haha, her screams. Diaries are stupid. This isn't a diary. It's a conglomerate of my innermost thoughts. Hahaha. Yours sincerely - Tom. [Voldemort gets a diary] [Humour]
1. An Introduction of Sorts

**The Wonderful Adventures and Enthralling Mishaps of Tom's Diary**

**Chapter 1 – An Introduction of Sorts**

* * *

Dumbledore frowned over the latest news as he sat in his office - recent Azkaban breakout of unidentified prisoners, Arthur attacked and in hospital, cursed ring still on his blackened hand, he had to admit that fighting the Dark Lord was not exactly going well. Perhaps…he thought, there was an error in the plan right from the beginning…saying 'we run things differently at Hogwarts', whilst giving Tom plenty of space and freedom under what he had proposed as a 'watchful eye' during his years at Hogwarts, was not going to achieve much in stopping him from becoming evil. No, it needed to start sooner, he thought as he popped a sorbet lemon in his mouth, that as well as love – yes, there was always love, the boy needed an ample space to express his emotions. A space to…let breathe and expose, to…let the transpiring's of the mind wander through the body and out through the fingertips into the world.

He supposed muggle orphanages in the 1940s were not exactly the greatest place for self-expression.

It was already a wonder Tom managed to get as far as he did without some ample form of anger management and personal-me-time. He decided that the perfect solution to the problem, and perhaps to aid in the preservation of the boy's sanity, was to present him with none other than... a diary…without his knowledge of course.

Diary-writing was a highly therapeutic task. Why, many people found if they wrote out their thoughts once a day, all their nondescript dark urges and unsavoury thoughts were filtered out from the life. Except, of course. When the supposedly therapeutic diary-writer was aware that they were writing in order to preserve their sanity. Self-awareness and therapeutic diary-writing never tended to work best. No, the correct order was a diary, time, and an ample dash of self-oblivion to do the magic.

Dumbledore intended on dropping it somewhere near the orphanage, where Tom was sure to find it. Perhaps he would even put a charm on it; one that attracts the charmer (benignly) to the object and to interact with it for a short amount of time. Not dark, but difficult. It was a seemingly simple harm, but took quite the learning curve to master.

Thankfully Dumbledore had mastered it.

He shall drop it off at the doorstep or his window sill or something to the orphanage perhaps a year or so before Tom was to begin at Hogwarts. Ample time to get his emotions out and the transition process. No, Dumbledore wasn't going to let Tom's only connection to a diary be one he brought on a whim on sale at a muggle market the summer holidays before fifth year, and took it with him to school where work was so busy (it would be his OWLs year) that scribbles of dates and homework assignments became his only interaction with the book. No, a proper bond, formed younger.

And so, Dumbledore selected a thick, nice, and properly bound book, used a time-turner from the ministry as a once off*, and journeyed back into the seeming drab and greying areas of Wool's Orphanage, muggle world, late 1930s, where he dropped it in the mailbox and cast the charm. Before time travelling right back.

A minute later. Tom came at the door, his defiant black eyes looking this way and that, or perhaps for one of his snake friends to talk to, before he took out all the mail, diary included. And so…began the wonderful adventures and enthralling mishaps of Tom's Diary…

* * *

June 11th

Location: Pantry. Near the kitchen. Large enough in here to hide two living people and three bodies. Hahaha, my sense of humour is great. Lots of yummy snacks to steal from.

Mood: Not hungry. What a waste. Also, angry.

I am angry. Very angry. My anger rolls of me in waves of undulating sadness that threatens to crush and overwhelm everyone like a tidal wave to a city…oh wait. I _live_ in a coastal town. It would crush me _too_. Not great. Best not to wish that.

Betty asked me to get the email from the mailbox today. Spiteful stupid Betty. She knows I hate getting my feet wet. Which I undoubtedly do when I get the mail. Because the mail always comes in the morning where there's dew and for some reason Mrs Stupid Cole thinks that just because there's a mailbox in that corner of the garden, you can't trim the grass around that area. Like there's a rule saying the grass around a mailbox cannot be cut. Like it would confuse the postman or something.

So the grass is always wet with dew and I get my toes wet.

I hate wet feet.

And after I got it, this stupid book came along with it. Hello stupid book. (That's you). And after I looked at you, I felt the _inane _urge to _just try writing my thoughts _in you. Which is ridiculous. So I left the mail on the kitchen table and am currently in the pantry – my number fourth best hiding spot to er, test out this book. Which I shall probably discard later...I hate you. Stupid contraption. I shall not even dignify you with signing of.

[BLOT]

* * *

June 11th

Time: 9:33am

Mood: Vengeful

I got revenge on you diary. Ahahahahaha. I shall describe the pure and utter evil and terror I did which shall no doubt leaving you quivering in your skin (cover) and fear chattering among your teeth (pages)! Hahahaha.

I left you.

No signing of.

To not sign of in a diary is undignified is it not? Aren't the greatest relationships built between book and man, diary and person, from signing of and the subtleties of interpersonal communication when one signs of on their day's ramblings?

I thought to myself, 'this is such a stupid little book, I'm not even going to continue writing in it', that it was probably going to get chucked in the bin later. And the bin in this orphanage can certainly be a rather nasty place. Did I mention I live in an orphanage? It's not what you might think it is but isn't what you wouldn't think it is either. More on that later. So I didn't even bother to sign of. Just left you. HAHAHA

Also inkblotted the page. Hehehe. A nasty one. I would've gave more but Martha came, _she _was hungry and needed some snacks (not the children) so I crept to the front and hid behind the door while she came and then left. Hahaha. I'm in the toilet now. By the way.

So I can gloat.

At my marvellous revenge plan, and how I left you blank and with inkblots and that was the last interaction from the last time I wrote in you and that's a sign I shall never write in you again and _oh wait-_

* * *

Same day.

Mood: Cunning & Still Vengeful

Current Plan: A frog shall be happily acquainted with Martha's soup and hopefully her horrified screams per dinnertime soon.

I did not get to finish my last entry in you diary.

Because while I was _busy_ and having my _own personal time _in the lavatory. (If not, for the sole purpose of writing in you.) Guess who came and interrupted me with an _inane _and _stupid _conversation.

Me: *scribes my witty plans ever so innocently*

A Voice: Billy, where are you? Billy, I have the lotion to remove the fluff from between your toes that's gotten stuck just like last time.

Indiscernible voice: (something)

A Voice (I think Martha's): Oh! (Her voice went high then) No one's seen Billy! And move the rabbits to the back cage please. Oh, Charlie, there you are! Now tell me, where's Billy?

Me: (_If no one's seen Billy then how is Charlie supposed to tell you where Billy is._)

Charlie: I'll go check the laundry.

Martha: That's lovely thank you. Now, I have some scrubbing to do.

-one second later-

Martha: Tom! *bangs on door* What are you doing in there? You've been in the bathroom for too long. Come out now.

Me: I'm just finishing up.

Martha: *raps raps raps on the door* It's been an inordinately long time Tom.

Me: I'm _allowed _to be here.

Martha: You, like all other children, need to be somewhere where you can be seen by adults for your own safety.

Me: I'M ALLOWED TO BE IN HERE. (almost tears hair out from desperation) WHAT KIND OF PLACE IS IT IF I CAN'T BE ALLOWED IN MY OWN BATHROOM.

Martha: Don't yell. There's no great distance between us. I'm just on the other side of the door you know. You've been there 20 minutes.

Me: If you are just on the other side, why do I need to come out and be seen? Wouldn't I be in close proximity that you are aware of my presence? If something tragic happened, like a cupboard fell (_on you, how unfortunate_) you would be close enough be aware so there's no need to visibly _see _me.

Martha: Tom. *tired voice* Come out now.

Indiscernible voice: (something)

Martha: Oh, what happened in the laundry? That's unfortunate Charlie dear, let me fix that up for you. TOM GET OUT NOW. And when you do finally exit the bathroom, please do go to your room and get ready for a turnout! Have you been stealing again and hiding things in odd places?

Me: *opens door but with book and pen behind my back* No I haven't been. Fine! *glares*

And that was all that happened. And Martha is the most annoyingst, meanest, ugliest (alright. She's not that ugly, objectively speaking. Judging from the way Mr Wool and some of the older boys fawn over her. But still. Her aura represents ugliness in almost a physical way) charity volunteer/helper ever. She should be incinerated in a big incinerator. Baked for Halloween dinner into a gingerbread or something! But then who would want to eat her? No one would want to eat Martha-gingerbread! Hmm. She shall be punished for that! She shall die! She shall be humiliated beyond her wildest dreams at my hands, for disturbing me this morning! She shall be met with a delicious frog swimming among her soup this afternoon! I have the vague feeling that's what she fears.

I hear footsteps.

Goodbye (for now).

-Tom

* * *

Same day.

Time: Lunchtime. (Thank god. It was my saving grace in the recent events of today.)

Mood: Wondering where the most cabbage-camouflaging looking frog might be found.

So Martha came to fix up Charlie because apparently Charlie made a boo-boo when he entered the laundry and slipped on some liquidly substance and scraped his knee pretty badly and needed a kissy-kissy and a band-aid. She was apologising all the way; the bumbling idiot was like 'oh how unfortunate' 'that's a bit silly' 'these things do happen' when it was SHE who SUGGESTED he go look for Billy in the first place. If she hadn't suggested that he would be fine. It was the laundry after all. She could have said, "Charlie, the laundry is wet and you do not have the required dexterity to navigate it. You are not to set foot in the laundry." and there, problem solved. But no. It seems like I'm the only one with any sense around this stinking place!

And then she came back, and we had this conversation:

Martha: I need to look at everything in your bedroom. An inspection if you will. Just to doublecheck it's not like last time.

Me: What was it like last time? I don't remember.

Martha: I'm sure you do.

Me: *turns around so I'm facing her as she walks around.* I'm not quite sure I do. (innocent voice) I haven't the best memory. *edges towards window* (Maybe she would contradict me which would be an unwilling compliment. Hahaha.

Unwilling compliment from Martha to me: 1.

Unwilling compliment from me to Martha: 0

Hahaha. Score: Me: 1. Martha: 0)

Martha: *looks around* (Apparently she couldn't find what she was looking for because then she started walking towards me) Tom, I'm not going to debate with you on that. Now, show me your hands now that I'm done with your room. This isn't going to be like the second last time when you _held two items in your hands _while I was inspecting your room for items that were not meant to be there!

Me: There's nothing there! This is horror! You can't do this to me! You assume I'm guilty each time! This is anarchy!

Martha: You know nothing about anarchy.

I'm not sure she knows anything about anarchy either. Judging from the newspapers and gossip columns she reads, she doesn't seem the type. And if she did know anything about anarchy, I bet it wouldn't be anything _much_.

Me: Really? What can you tell me about anarchy?

Martha: Tom! That's enough. Hands out now.

Me: Why? *hides hands for the sake of provoking her. I always do that sometimes. Pretend I'm more guilty when I'm not. It's more funny to wind people up sometimes. Especially once they find out and there's nothing they can do to accuse you. And then it gives them doubts for next time.* Are you expecting to see something?

Martha: Tom. Hands out now! I have more cleaning to do.

Me: There's nothing, I swear!

Martha: *sounds tired* More scrubbing to do. And when I'm done with the bathroom I shall have to do the laundry. But it's already so messy as it is I'm not sure scrubbing would make much of a difference to the wetness of the floor. *mutters under her breath* Tom!

Me: *I shoot her a deathly glare of great glory while I start planning her demise. I wonder if she would actually accidentally ever eat a frog in her meal.*

Martha: Hands out now!

Me: Fine! *reveals empty palms of holy glory and everything nice and innocent and good*

Martha: *checks* Hm.

Me: What now?

Martha: I do not see anything. *gaze relaxes* I suppose there must be nothing afterall. I'm sorry for that Tom. It is nice to see you on good behaviour sometimes. *checks watch* I can't have the time to investigate this any further. I can't do the cleaning right now either. I do need to cook lunch for everyone. You can come down in 30 minutes time when it's done, and remember to do your part of setting out the cutlery.

Me: Why thank you dear helper. It looks like your part of the inspection is done.

Her: *says nothing but glares a little*

Then that annoyance left.

I waited a moment or two had passed. It was going to kill me to be discovered with a new book in my possession, especially one neither the matron nor the helper would have remembered buying for me.

Then I turned and sprinted to the corridors, almost jumping out of my room in delight and running down to the garden.

(Where I am now.) Heh.

Recounting this tale with glory.

_Wait_.

You wouldn't know.

*looks back up* Seems like I forgot to put the location down. I didn't feel like putting it down when I was writing because I was so focussed on the serendipitous time and the mood.

So you wouldn't be able to know and bask in the greater glory of my plans.

Hm.

Well. Just so you know. (And neither the matron nor the helpers have figured this out)

The window can open to varying degrees hidden by the fluttering curtains. It connects to the outside world, where it resides on top of a compost heap. A very _soft _and _muffling of sound _compost heap.

They'll never know.

And lunchtime was great because it gave me time to exit and find you again without any sort of busybody interference, not that it would have mattered in the long-term, but I would've needed to come up with some extra lie or another to get what I wanted in the end. Hmm.

I've been writing in you outside for the past 15 minutes or so.

This is great.

Once I've gotten you past this morning, I can easily hide you somewhere in my room. The paint is peeling in the top corner of the room, and one of the ceiling rafters is loose. It's perfect for this.

Among many other hiding places.

Hah. The secrets of the orphanage. Which are mine to know.

I shall go now, hide the book and come out for lunch soon. Goodbye.

-From The Ever so Scheming and Unsuspecting Cunning Mastermind,

Tom Riddle,

Yours Truly.

* * *

Still the same day.

Time: After lunchtime.

Current Plan: Frogs are happier where they naturally reside.

Lunch was great. I rushed up here afterwards.

You know.

Diaries are mostly stupid. Actually. This isn't a diary. It's a conglomerate of my innermost thoughts. Yes. That's a better term. For the wonderful future and the insipid intricate plans of world domination I have laid out. Mauhahaha-

_Oh wait._

A Diary _is _generally, a conglomerate of people's innermost thoughts. Hm…

Note to self: Think up better, more dramatic description to this diary. My diary.

But.

Oh well.

I have decided you are not as useless as you thought. Today actually proved sort of … fulfil- _no_. That's not it. I don't know the right word for it, but let's put it this way: it wasn't as banal and boring as I thought, writing in you. And I _do _like this relationship. However, er, one-sided it may be at the moment. (Perhaps I could do something in the future to change that.) But er, I do find, undeniably, and unmistakably so in this boring life, that pen meets paper and yields a response now and through, what I suppose is the ages, and what I suppose are the banal and boring rest of my life that I am to lead, that is significant in some way. Yes, I think the significance of this diary shall not be missed, and I will keep writing in you for quite some time.

Also.

I have decided it is best to write four things when I do for future entries.

Time. Location. Mood and Current Plan. If I don't have anything I'll put 'na' or explain that I have nothing. And the date. But I shall never forget the date. I'm good with dates.

As per the exemplar above – today, you missed out on one of my greatest geniuses (or narrowly missed out had I not seen to my mistake and corrected it) due to lacking in putting one of those in.

I just made them up randomly whilst I was writing as it felt befitting at the time. But I suppose I shall pretty much always include them now. Unless I'm writing under duress. But why would I be writing under duress? I would kick-ass and then write about my victories in this book afterwards! Ha!

I shall also have to leave my room at some point throughout the rest of today so I am not suspected of anything. Matron is already mildly suspicious after she heard the behaviour report from Martha today.

I haven't been naughty or gotten in trouble in a long time.

And I have decided it is simply _too much _effort, and I am quite content with my inconception of this diary at current, to _want _to spend time away catching frogs or whatever.

Don't like frogs all that much either.

When you catch them you have a greater chance of getting your feet wet from their nature habitat.

I like snakes much more.

They prefer dry land.

Something I quite firmly agree with.

I can talk to snakes by the way. More on that later. But for now.

Sssssssssh, it'll be our secret.

_Sssssssssssshhhhhhh, that'll be our ssSsssSseeeecccret._

Hehehe.

I shall go outside now. I wonder how Billy would take it if I told him Charlie got hurt looking for him. Hahhahahaa.

-The great and wonderful insipid mind which transpired this diary

I shall change the way I sign of depending on my mood. Tom is also pretty good. It's a great and simple way to write who I am. (For now).

* * *

June 12th

Time: 7:11am

Location: In my room.

Mood: Well. I am awake from when I was sleep just minutes before, and nothing has happened since. Unless I had any interesting dreams (which I did not) I do not have any particular mood at current.

Current Plan: Writing

It is the next day. I came to report on yesterday actually. Oh wait. Something tragic did happen. Yes. It is too much to ask for to wake up to a good mood these days.

You know how the helper was interrupted from completing the cleaning by helping Charlie, locating Billy and cooking lunch the other day?

Yes well.

Turns out she had left her cleaning materials, mop and bucket outside the bathroom on the way to my room.

It is with great sorrow in this that I wrote that as I exited the room I stepped foot-first in the soapy bucket of water..

..

..

! MY FEET WERE WET!

Things are not always going well. Anyways. I shall leave for breakfast soon.

Goodbye.

-Tom

* * *

**Author's Note: ***** - I know it's not realistic in canon. But it's just to set the scene and allow the universe of this story to work.**

**Originally the prologue at the top was it's own chapter but I thought it was too short and could be tacked on this chapter (so all chapters include a diary entry) and changed it to make the story flow better. **

**How'd you like it? Please leave a review haha, I'm always keen on people's thoughts, and how this story is being received at the moment (: Please let me know your thoughts, any sort of constructive criticism etc, I'm always welcome to those and also – if you have any ideas you'd like to see for future chapters (minor mishaps in either the orphanage life or wizarding life when Voldie goes to Hogwarts or anything else please suggest haha), I already have my ideas of the general line of events and what's going to happen/plot bunnies, but it'll be interesting to hear what your ideas are, and I might want to include them in the story! :D**

**-WhymsicalBell**


	2. I hate magpies!

**The Wonderful Adventures and Enthralling Mishaps of Tom's Diary**

**Chapter 2 – I Hate Magpies**

* * *

**June 17th**

**Time: **9.57am

**Location: **In my room. On my comfortable chair (which is so totally NOT due to a stolen cushion. Noo..no), with my comfortable pen ;), writing this)

**Mood: **Recounting my past treasures with glee

**Current Plan: **Simultaneously recount my past treasures AND not get them stolen back

So. It has been a while. But I have spare time, and some things begging to be done in my room, and an open empty book (well, mostly empty) and a comfortable fountain pen so…why not? I am currently writing in you as I recount my treasures…no…enthralling my deepest and darkest thoughts whilst I recount my most prized possessions…yes, that sounds better.

Anyways. Did I mention I liked to collect things? I live in an orphanage so practically everything's borrowed anyway. I mean, aren't we all just borrowed people living in a house borrowed from the government, on borrowed kindness from strangers, borrowing the rooms and each other's belongings? Do any of us ever have any true ownership over any items? That's why I never have much of a problem with taking others' desirable items as my own. If we already share the same living space, and the same objects 99% of the time, it's practically mine anyway.

I usually have a small wooden box of them. I cycle through every so often, depending on when was the last time I was discovered to have these items and had them returned.

I've been a good boy recently so there's been nothing much in here.

Just a few coins mainly.

Not worthwhile coins. They're not particularly worthwhile currency. Just normal coins with a few rare patterns on them. Patterns printed from the mint that only arrive on 1 in every 1000 coin or something.

It's quite interesting.

The window is open, so there's a nice breeze and fresh air coming in and I currently have them sprawled out on my desk near the window.

Each one has a story, which is great! I love recounting how I got each and every one! It makes me feel cool.

Look, here's one which I fished out from the bottom of the toilet drains after seeing the interesting pattern? It took me a whole afternoon to get it out, oh _wait_, fished out from the toilet, _with my own hands_ (gloves are expensive. A single glove would be worth more than the value of the entirety of this coin collection summed together). Huh. _Yuck!_ Perhaps that's not the most uplifting story.

Hm.

I will continue writing in you later. Now I'm just recounting.

* * *

**Same day.**

**Time: **10.41am

**Location: **Room

**Mood: **$$$ $_$ :D

**Current Plan:** Finish recounting coins without getting them stolen back.

This is great! I just recounted the lot of them, and am arranging and stacking them in order. But I took a break and decided to write in this.

You know how I mentioned I live in an orphanage? And it's like what people think but yet not like what people think? But I would write more about it later. Well.

Firstly, it's not all _that _bad. Yep, it's pretty terrible at times, and I hate being stuck in this stupid place with all these tragically terrible people, and the tragically terrible helpers. (Who by the way, have a particular affinity for opera and soap opera songs 7 record discs above my tolerance.)

..

(There are only 7 record discs in this orphanage, if that says anything about my tolerance…)

Anyways. It's not that bad really. A lot of people when they hear 'orphanage' immediately imagine a place where everyone's beaten, or the workers are exploiting the children, or that we're all starved, abused, etc, and it's a living hell.

I mean. Not to say it isn't. But it's a living hell in a different way.

If you wanted an honest report of things. Matron and the helpers, although annoying, have not done any single action to harm us. There's no real threats here either. All the worse threats are outside, with the second world war about to be fought, and the tension between Germany and France, but it's something only read about briefly in newspapers and not a real source of conversation here. The matron and the helpers don't really talk about it much, and I get the sound feeling the children are mostly spared from being involved in the conflict –I mean, it's an orphanage in middle of the countryside, it's not really something any party would care to involve in the thick of anything.

No one really knows what's going on. I don't either. I am interested in anarchy, amongst other things, but I can't say I care too much about this war, in general it doesn't affect much.

But the orphanage is poor. Things are always lacking. We're always living on rations and there's ever enough. Everyone has to make do.

It's not bad. Just bland.

And sometimes.

The banality almost kills.

The other day it got so boring Eric Whalley opened his mouth during the compulsory mass everyone has to attend on Sundays and had a bet on how long he could go before something leaked in it.

Everyone found it funny, and did their dumb little laughter and were all like 'oh Eric! You're so funny!' 'You accidentally crack me up!'

'I bet 12 minutes!'

'I think 5!'

'I get you're going to last the whole hour.'

I put my bet at 7 seconds, then I grabbed a wad of chewed up gum from the underside of the wooden bench and plopped it right in his mouth.

Hahaha.

Some of the other lemmings found it hilarious, some were in torn between shock horror and the urge to dob. (But they didn't.) I found it funny. Did they know when they got horrified their mouths just opened wider in a big O as they looked around with dumb eyes? I could chuck more gum in there if I wanted to.

Hahaha. But at the end of the day – my bet was right. I'm the winner! It _did_ take 7 seconds.

Anyways. Orphanage = not the awful you think it is. Mostly bearable but boring.

There is the depressing sense though. It's not the outward gloom and cliché pity-party you might think when you hear 'orphanage'. There's tragically beautiful soul wondering around, feeling oh so tragically beautiful about the loss of their parents, seeking a tragically beautiful reprieve and finding tragically beautiful inspiration when they look up at the tragically beautiful stars and the like. _Ew_. That's vomit-worthy cringe.

But.

There is a deeper sense of gloom. Everyone here is uncertain about their future. Theres no plans about who's going where or what. No one has any path or destiny laid out for them. No one cares where you are and what you're doing in the world. Though a few do get the odd weirdos that call every nown and again. But they're not very friendly. Those who know they have orphanaged relative somewhere and don't take them in, but apparently do care enough to call – and just that, tend to be weird folk in general.

It's a sort of deeper sense that fills you when everything's quiet, and you just sort of think about it. I guess everyone understands. But I wouldn't want to talk about it with anyone. Not really. People that don't grow up in an orphanage don't really understand what it's like there. People claim to understand that it's like to be in an orphanage, but they just attribute it to surface emotions of missing your parents. The true subtleties are missed on a lot of people.

Ah. I am being called to do the boring chores. I will write more later.

-Tom

* * *

**Time: **11.39am

**Location: **Safely in my room again.

**Mood**: Chore-free!

**Current Plan: **Remain chore-free. Stack the last of my prized possessions, which mostly consist of coins at the present. And make sure they're not stolen back. That is, my prized possessions are still _my _possessions.

I had to deworm the rabbits. That is gross. You know, I never liked deworming the rabbits.

I used to like worms better when I was a child. Because they resembled snakes. I'm good friends with snakes? Did I tell you? No, I should explain before you think I'm crazy…

(I'm not crazy)

But anyways. I used to dislike rabbits because I liked worms better. They just look like tiny snakes! And some of the worms died when you applied the lotion. While the stupid rabbit made a fuss.

I would have rather derabbited the worms.

But that's then.

I don't like worms anymore. That was before I realised worms were stupid creatures. Not much brighter than you rabbit you pulled them from, even dimmer than the rabbits possibly, and that's saying _something _for the rabbit's intelligence!

Anyways. I mentioned I could talk to snakes right?

They're my friends. Ever since I was young, I always had his ability to talk to snakes. I didn't know until I was 7, but since then it's never escaped me. I think I'm the only one who can do so at the orphanage – I've never met another that could also talk to snakes. I don't care if people know, but I don't care to particularly let them know.

I talk to them every now and then again. And what is it like talking to snakes? Not what you would tink. They're simple creatures really. I looked forward to talking to them once I discovered that I _could _talk to them, looked forward to long late-night conversations discussing our future plans, or the glorious wonders of the world, and the height of all things wonderful. But instead?

Snakes are astoundingly simple creatures. Most of their actions (and therefore their words) revolve around finding food, shelter, warmth, or moving about to do just that. They can't talk for long really. Or maybe don't bother to think too much. It's mostly simple conversation with them. Though I have met one or two snakes who talked slightly deeper than others, so I guess it's variable and they could entertain bigger ideas, but I don't get the general sense they're interested in talking for too long.

That makes me sad.

I'm Tom Riddle and my bestest friends in the whole wide world are only interested in the hobbies eating and finding a warm place to sleep.

But then again. At this orphanage, some of the younger children (yuck. Can't stand them, they are a great source of irritation) don't sleep all the way through the night and kick up a fuss at mealtimes, so what can I say? The snakes have achieved more than some of the other unworthy candidates of having my friendship bestowed upon them here.

Speaking with snakes is kind of different. For starters. You talk in a new language on its own. I can't explain it. It's not English but it has its own vocabulary. Grammar structure is basically the same as English, or any other nomadic language because it all consists of things like '_I am hungry' 'I am thirsty' 'I am tired' 'I go eat'. _It's so simple generally it cannot possibly be complicated enough to not have similarities with the basics of any language. Sometimes it's even abbreviated to things like '_Hungry' 'Wet' _or '_Foot!'_.

Which is not me by the way.

I never step on snakes.

Snakes are my friends.

(Even if they are dull conversationalists.)

I remember the first conversation I ever had with a snake, who's still around this countryside actually. And how after finding out his name, I asked him for directions to Mrs Honeywinkle's house, who lived several miles close to the orphanage, which I heard from other children had big fat strawberries in the garden. Yum! Ripe for the picking!

Me: _Could you please tell me…if you can, how to get the strawberries from Mrs Honeywinkle's house? The one with the strawberries in the garden. Do you even know where it is?_

_Ellipse(the snake): Yes. I have know-how on where it is._

_Me: Could you tell me, if you can, where are her strawberries?_

_Ellipse: Yes. In garden. Mmmm…big yummy strawberries! I hungry. I go find more food now._

_Me: No! Wait, you haven't told me everything! Don't leave. Where is her garden?_

_Ellipse: Around her house._

_Me: And where's her house?_

_Ellipse: By garden._

_Me: Where?_

_Ellipse: *stares at me as if it's obvious* Middle of garden._

That's one thing about snakes. If they were ever dull when talking to humans, they don't properly become aware! Even worse, they have a tendency to think _you're _the one being dull!

_Me: *gets impatient* Yes yes! I know that! Where's her garden?_

_Ellipse: Around her house._

_Me: Yes! Nooo! Okay, where are her strawberries?_

_Ellipse: In garden._

_Me: And where would the garden be?_

_Ellipse: In meadow. Countryside._

_…_

_Ellipse: Grass._

_Me: Where in the countryside?_

_Ellipse: (finally says something useful) That way. (points tail) Slither for quite a distance, turn towards sun-rise, slither half the distance. Then turn right…Yum._

_Me: *through gritted teeth* Okay. Thank you. Thank you very much._

_Ellipse: Pay me in food._

_Me: *shows empty pockets* C'mon Ellipse, you know I have no food. That was why I was asking where the strawberries were. I wanted to get some._

_Ellipse: Strawberries? You want know where strawberries are? Strawberries are in garde-_

_Me: Goodbye! It's been nice talking to you. Goodbye I guess, first real friend. _(None of the other kids in the orphanage had explicitly _told _me where the strawberries were, I only gained this knowledge through spying and listening in on conversations. Ellipse was the first who'd given me active information I wanted, and aided me in my conquest. However infuriatingly.) _Er, before I go, satisfy my curiosity. What are you thinking of now?_

_Ellipse: Ellipse think about food._

Then he slithered away after I said my last goodbyes. And that was my first conversation with a snake actually.

Also, I have to go to the bathroom. I will be back to write in you later.

-Tom

* * *

**June 17****th****.**

**Time: **11.43am

**Location: **My room.

**Mood: **Chore-free. In sole ownership of my prized possessions.

**Current Plan: **Remain in ownership of prized possessions and chore-freedom.

I am back. And I will finish putting my coins in the boxes.

Hold on one moment.

Hah hah hah.

I have 37 coins in total.

All mine!

I am the king of coins. They are all mine, and belong under my possession, in the kingdom that is within my wooden box, and I am the ruler of them and they shall do my bidding as…whatever it is loyal coin subjects do and

* * *

**Same day.**

**Time: **11.48am

**Location: **My room

**Mood: **AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! THE MAGPIES! I HATE MAGPIES!

**Current Plan: **Get my possessions back and plunder each and every magpie that lives within a 2 mile radius of the orphanage!

Diary.

You know how I said I was the king of all my possessions and my goal was to remain in possession of them?

AHHHHHHHHHHHH.

AHHHHH.

AHHAHHAHAHAHAAaAHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Well. Guess _what_?

Magpies! Came in through the window! About two or so magpies swooped in all at once, and landed on the window sill, where I had the last couple coins I was about to put back in their respective stacks in the wooden box, and took of with it!

They took of with my precious coins!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I must get them back. Revenge plan.

I'll be right back.

-Tom

* * *

**June 17****th**

**Time**: 1.30pm

**Location: **My room.

**Mood**: Off to avenge the greatest treasures and plunger all the blasted birds!

**Current Plan**: Go out looking for them. I think I saw a magpie struggle with grasping three coins in its beak, and if I'm not mistaken – I think I saw it fall not too far from here in the countryside!

Also – hit magpie on head with big stick.

So. Shortly after I discovered the magpie treacheries, I put the remainder of the coins back in the wooden box, and then that in its hiding spot, _simmering _witha lovely dose of barely hidden anger and contempt, even if I do say so myself, and then Sandra (another helper) called us to help with lunch, before having lunch, and clearing up after lunch.

Mrs Cole then said that it was no good we spend all day cooped up indoors, especially as one of the babies had been sick with colic, had cried the whole night and as she put it "too many faces and bodies crowding up the rooms, need room to breathe", and "it would be lovely if you lot could go entertain ourselves outside for the afternoon".

Some of the older boys went hiking and (probably) meeting up with girls from the local highschool. Some of the girls decided to go together and do whatever things girls did, and I said I'll go explore the old well by myself for a bit (Mrs Cole didn't mind because the well was well…old, and not very dangerous at all. It was empty and the walls were made of jagged stone, so it was easy to climb out if anyone dropped in and had no water in it so drowning was a risk that was minified) and no one else seemed to mind, and now I'm just getting ready to leave.

Mauahaha…I shall go off on my great adventure to get back the coins! Now…to start looking for a big stick. Expect results diary. The next time I write in you, I shall have coins tumbling through my fingertips as I record my successful victory!

-Tom the Conqueror and Supreme Magpie Hitter

* * *

**Same day.**

**Time: **6.55pm

**Location: **My room

**Mood: **I HATE MAGPIES! I GOT MY COLLECTION BACK. BUT STILL, I HATE MAGPIES.

**Current Plan: **Maintain possession of coins.

AAAAHHH. You wouldn't guess what happened today? With that busy-body interfering Amy Benson! I never liked her! She's too annoying and…so…_extra_ in a way, to be of any friend to me. And today just proved that we don't like each other.

AHHHH.

I set out into the countryside. It was easy to find the first few coins. I swear they just _popped out _at me, but the other magpie must have been slightly stingier with the coins than the previous, because I couldn't find where they dropped anywhere. (And I distinctively saw some more coins drop.)

It was all fruitless, and I was foraging in the undergrowth for them, when suddenly – a snake – I saw a small brown one in the bush. Yes – a source of information!

And I was having a _lovely _conversation with the snake asking if he spotted any coins lately when Amy spotted me, and had to come blundering and interfering in.

The snake was crawled up around my arm. I should add that unlike what everyone's first instinct is, snakes really don't like to be held anywhere along their body, with one of your hands wrapped around it. A snake doesn't have extra fiddly bits like arms and legs that we do, so their entire body is their sensory part. If you hold a part of it with your hand wrapped around it, it feels extremely trapping and violating to a snake.

Which is why many freak out and try to attack you if they're not friendly or used to humans when you try to do that. I mean, imagine if your body was a tube and then something much bigger than you grasped one side of the tube and you were doubtful if you could escape or not?

Instead, if a snake chooses to get friendly with you, they prefer to slither up a part of you, and stay on that way. You don't grab a snake. You reach out and give it something to clamber and slither on so it feels like it's in control.

So, I had this snake on both arms. It was about a metre in length, which was quite small for a snake really. And I was having a lovely conversation about it, just about getting to know where the coins (shiny objects that reflect light) were when guess who stumbled onto the scene? Amy Annoying Babbling Benson.

Anyway. She stumbled into _my _space, and _my _conversation and saw me with the snake, and what's the first thing that idiot does?

Screaming.

Yup.

She screamed her head of. Then she snapped up straighter. Then she continued screaming her head of. Then her mouth got even wider if possible. And she continued screaming all the more louder.

Meanwhile, Elvis' freaked out. I mean, snakes are startled by noise, especially one coming all of a sudden from a source that wasn't nature like the sound of a waterfall or something, and from something much bigger than it. So Elvis was freaking out and trying to slither away, being like '_It'ss-s-s-s-s b-been a nice converss-s-s-sation.'_

_'__I musss-s-st go'_

But Elvis was my friend, and who knows, he could continue to give helpful information to me. So I held on a bit tight and was like, 'ITS BEEN A NICE CONVERSATION'. I screwed up, I don't know why (I screw up sometimes…Don't judge), and yelled it in english for some reason.

Elvis: *tries to slither away some more* _I mussssst go._

Amy: WHAT DO YOU MEAN! WE DIDN'T TALK!

Me: I WASN'T TALKING TO YOU!

Elvis: _Goodbye ?_

Me: _Tom!_ THE NAME IS TOM!

Elvis: _Goodbye Tom._

Amy: AHHHHH! THE DEVIL! You're talking to the devil!

Elvis slithered away.

But that didn't stop Amy. Who had apparently decided I was talking to the devil but for some reason, she appeared scared of me, yet scared to leave me. And she kept casting her eyes about and continually screaming chants and things like 'GO AWAY, WE'RE JUST PLAYING' 'WE'RE JUST INNOCENT CHILDREN' 'WE DON'T DESERVE TO DIE'. Talk about dramatic.

Then I went to get the coins. Which Elvis told me had been disturbed by the forces of nature since and were buried under dirt and twigs and stuff.

So I took a stick, located the coins (which hadn't fallen very far from the orphanage), dug around and underneath the ground until a small crater was created. I scooped up the two or so coins and pocketed them discretely, before heading back.

I don't know why, but for some reason Amy didn't leave, but she didn't seem that comforted either. She watched me do that and just kept screaming and mumbling things to herself. I glared at her. You know there are _two _or more ways back to the orphanage right? If my presence scares you, you could just take another way.

So I walked. And ignored her.

And she kept lowkey screaming and whimpering, and doing this alternating thing where she looked at the place where she found me, then at me. I don't know why she was looking at me. Stupid person. Like she was _expecting _something or rather. Then whimpering, then walking on, then looking back.

In the end I couldn't stand it and as the orphanage came into view, I said something to her, and she ran the rest of the way back.

Haha. Sucker. I only screamed 'boo'. I don't like Amy. She's annoying at best, a screaming baboon from the pits of the earth at worst. I've never quite gotten along with her. Well. Most people here in my opinion are very tiring or rather. I don't get along well with anyone for the most part, but especially her.

I hear Robert coming up and telling everyone that matron said dinner was ready and for all of us to go down.

I'll be right back.

-Tom

p.s. I still hate magpies

* * *

**June 17****th**

**Time: **8.03pm

**Location**: My Room

**Mood**: Amused

**Current Plan: **Nothing.

Well. Today was a both a good and bad day. But mostly bad. I have a coin collection (good). I lost my coin collection to a magpie (bad). I made friends with a snake called Elvis who helped me find it (good). Amy busybody interfering Benson got in the way because she thought I was possessed by the devil or something, but yet wouldn't leave my side as we walked back (bad). I found my coin collection (good). And now I'm in my room. This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for magpies! Ghastly creatures! Hmph! I shall recount my prized possessions in a darkened corner of my room or something next time…or at least, not make the same mistake and recount them with an open window nearby.

That sounds like a good plan.

..

I like it when I think up good plans..

:D

I also. Still HATE Magpies! And I think I will hate them for a long time now.

Oh and by the way. The only good thing since I got my coin collection back in today was that Amy tried to tell the matron I was talking to the devil, but the matron scolded her and told her to stop making up stories, hahaha, we had this resulting (humorous) dinnertime conversation:

-in the midst of eating and normalcy and light chatter-

Amy: Tom was talking to the devil today.

Everyone: *glances up half-heartedly, some surprised, some scared, some ambivalent, some laughing at Amy*

Mrs Cole: What? You have to learn to speak up louder dear. And pass the sauce to Dennis Billy.

Amy: *speaks up louder* Tom was talking to the devil today.

Mrs Cole: What? The devil? Don't be ridiculous.

Amy: *cries and prepares to blubber up for an even bigger cry. Did I mention that I hate magpies as well as Amy? But I think I hate magpies more.* But I saw him! He called the devil up from the ground and had a nice chat-

Mrs Cole: Amy! That's enough! *puts down knife and fork* That's ridiculous. You're making up stories now!

Amy: *lip quivering, but even she had the sense to stop there and not provoke Mrs Cole further* B-b-but, I swear I saw it-

Mrs Cole: Don't be ridiculous. *goes back to eating* The devil doesn't exist!

Amy: *quickly shuts up and goes back to eating*

Hamish: But don't we go to church on Sundays to talk to god! If god exists-

Mrs Cole: The devil doesn't talk to children!

I resisted the urge to say 'Well, does that mean the devil talks to you?' but didn't because I was in partial-trouble already, and wanted to come back up to write in this afterwards, so keeping a low profile was better.

But hahahahaha. I got a look at her face when the matron told her to stop being ridiculous and to not make up tales. Hahahaha.

And now I'm up here.

So that was good. That was hilarious actually. The day wasn't all bad.

But.

For the record.

I STILL HATE MAGPIES!

-Tom

p.s. Also: Remember to hit magpie on head with stick should you see one for the next few months. Noted to self. Hehehe, I hate magpies.

* * *

**Author's Note: By the way, I just wanted to say that this story is set in 1937. (The year that Tom writes his first entry. However, I don't think he would date the year of his diary entry because it wouldn't change easily like the month or date, so yeah, just adding it here ^_^) Please drop of a review if you do have the time haha, I love reading them (: **


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